The Devil's Heir

by Leilani Lopez

  How can I argue with that? I spend the rest of the night squeezing his hand when really, I want to rip apart Valak before he can do it to Daisy.

  It’s my friends who express concern over the lack of the Hales’ presence recently. Luke’s been dropping me off at school for the past couple days, so I haven’t noticed.

  During the day, I get to pretend that I’m not in the middle of a war between Heaven and Hell. And at night, I get to relish in the fact that Luke Hale, Prince of Hell himself, takes the time to pop in and wish me sweet dreams every single night.

  If I’m honest, I’ve enjoyed our newly formed routine over the past couple days. But at my friends’ insistence, I decide to go check on them.

  The rain picks up after class, so Daisy offers to go out of her way to drop me off at the manor after school. When we pull up to the front of the house, she asks me to say hello to Luke’s cousin for her.

  “You know he’s not really their cousin, right?” I ask her.

  She shrugs a dramatic shoulder. “You realize it’s slim pickings around here so I don’t care, right?”

  I frown. “Daisy, you’re so much better than that.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Relax, Calla, it’s just flirting. It’s not a forever thing.”

  If only she knew what forever means to these guys. “I’m going to go now.”

  “Have a good night, Calla.”

  I give her an innocent smile. “Have a wonderful night.”

  She waits until I’m on the doorstep before turning her car around. I make sure to give her a little wave, noticing her still staring back at me through her window. Turning around, I go to knock on the front door to find it already open. Unsurprisingly, Lily is standing in the doorway looking more disheveled than usual.

  “Everything okay?” I ask her, first noticing her hair up in a messy ponytail. “You look like you could use a hand.”

  Lily snorts and pushes the door open for me to step in. “You don’t even know the half of it. Get in.”

  I no longer take offense to her attitude swings or unkind words. “What’s going on?”

  The house is a mess. Not in the traditional sense, but the pillows are not in their proper place, glass cups are still on the coffee table, and there are light scuffs on the floor from heavy footwork.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask again.

  Lily once more ignores me, moving deeper into the house and into the kitchen. I quietly follow her and take the water bottle she throws at me from the fridge, noticing the lack of contents within.

  “Is Luke home?” I ask when she drains the entire bottle.

  She chews her bottom lip. “He’s busy.”

  She’s the only one who will answer any of my questions without hesitation, so I ask more. “Doing what?”

  “He’s downstairs.” Her face is back in the fridge again as she rummages, the voice muffled by the metal doors.

  That piques my interest.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize this place has a basement.”

  Lily looks over her shoulder at me with a blank expression. “It doesn’t.”

  Then where… “Oh.”

  I never thought to wonder whether the entrance to Hell, actual Hell, would be underneath the manor. A place I’ve been to time and time again.

  “I think Luke’s taking this angel biz a little too serious,” she says into a bowl of grapes. “He’s got everyone running around twenty-four seven preparing for a battle that, frankly, I don’t even know is ever going to happen.”

  That’s a lot more information than I’ve gotten out of Luke in days. “Preparing for what?”

  She rolls her eyes, munching on the fruit. “War, obviously.”

  She says it so easy, as if it’s just another word in her everyday vocabulary. “Is a fight really going to break out?”

  Her eyes narrow and her bites quicken. “Can’t really say. Never been through one on this scale, but I’ve been training for this my entire life.”

  “And how long has that been?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  I raise my brow at her. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, right?”

  “Being a demon doesn’t automatically make me a liar.” She sounds offended.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I tell her, taking a sip of the water. “It’s just a question. I know your brother is…far older than I can ever imagine.”

  “Listen, Calla, I know my brother’s been a little difficult these past few days,”—I roll my eyes—“and I’m sure he hasn’t told you a single thing about it, but this is a really big deal and he’s under a lot of stress.”

  I bite my lip. “I can’t imagine.”

  “No,” she says, “you can’t.”

  I’m not sure just how much can be done to prepare for an unholy war in less than a week, but from Lily’s unkempt hair and the messy house, I’d imagine she means it quite literally that the demons have been working twenty-four hours a day.

  I nod, mostly to myself. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Keep my brother calm?” she says and scoffs out a laugh. “Just be patient with him, okay? I promise you, when this is over, it’s going to be great. The holidays are approaching and I know the cutest couple’s costume for you guys.”

  I’ve never celebrated the holidays before. A painful reminder that just weeks ago I started my senior year at St. John’s, and now I’m at risk of spending my holidays on the run with Aunt Polly rather than with my…boyfriend.

  “I’m not going to pretend I know what you and your brother are going through, but as a friend, just know I’ll always be here to listen. Even when it’s about murder, though I prefer if you’d ease me into it.”

  Lily tosses the now empty bowl into the sink. “You don’t know how much that means to us.”

  “Us?”

  “Me,” she corrects. “You don’t know how much that means to me. It can be a bit lonely being Lucifer’s daughter.”

  I stare into Lily’s tired face, wishing I could tell her whatever she needs to hear to make this right. “You’re not the Devil, Lily, that much I’m sure of.”

  Her tired eyes light up before she wrinkles her nose. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel offended or flattered.”

  “Flattered,” I reassure her. “You’re here and your father is…nowhere to be found, or so I’m told.”

  Lily smirks. “Just wait until you meet him. I think Father gets more of a bad rap than he deserves.”

  My head hurts at the thought. “Don’t tell your brother.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t speak to him about Father, not unless I want a—I SAID I’M COMING!” Her eyes flash and she pounds the marble counter.

  I jerk back.

  “Dammit,” she curses. “They’re calling me.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Okay.”

  “Listen,” she says, “you can stick around as long as you want. I probably won’t be back for quite some time, but you’re always welcome here.”

  I finish the water she gave me and put it in the recycling bin. “That’s okay, I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “You’ll never be in the way, Calla. Like I said, you’re wanted—”

  “Lilith,” a cold voice calls out. “I asked you to—” Luke stops cold in his tracks at the sight of me in his kitchen.

  My mouth automatically starts to lift into a smile but I stop at the sight of him. Luke is drenched in what seems like a cocktail of goo and blood and he smells of smoke. Despite the fact he appeared in the kitchen out of thin air, he’s managed to dirty the floor around him. There’s a streak of what I hope is soot on his cheek and his chest is rising and falling from his vicious panting.

  He looks like he’s been to Hell and back—and frankly, he has.

  I take a step toward him, a hesitant hand out prepared to comfort him in some way, but stop when Luke retreats from me. “Get out.”

  I freeze midstride, thinking I didn’t hear him right. “Excuse me?”

  “Go ho
me, Calla, now’s not a good time.”

  I take a step back, into the safety zone of Lily’s support. “Well, I wasn’t here to see you anyway.”

  He brushes off my sarcasm by briefly turning to his sister. “I said I need you downstairs. Did you make the contact like I asked you to?”

  She nods and he leaves us standing in the kitchen, his footprints outlined in blood. I turn to Lily, preparing to join in on her assault against her brother, but she’s already gone.

  I place my hands on the cold counter and let out a pent-up breath. Lily’s words pound in my head while I try my hand at understanding and forgiveness. I’m sure he didn’t mean to say it in the tone that he did. What he probably meant was, ‘Calla, amour, I’m a little bit busy right now and don’t want to take any frustrations out on you. I promise I’ll see you later.’

  But that’s not how he said it. Far from it.

  Luke’s busy. Luke’s troubled. Luke’s under pressure. I tell myself. You can’t imagine what he’s going through.

  But Luke has no right to shoo me away.

  Frustrated, I push off the counter and begin to stalk toward the front door. I don’t care that sun has already set; I’d rather take my chances out there than remain dismissed in this house.

  I make it all the way to the front door, hand on the knob, when I stop myself.

  I promised myself to no longer live in fear, and this feels a lot like running away.

  Not giving myself time to think about it, I pivot and head straight into the areas of the house the bedrooms are located. My steps echo throughout the empty house and I don’t care if there’s anyone, or anything, hidden in the dark corners observing me. I pass Lily’s bedroom and head straight to Luke’s.

  The room is just as I remember it: immaculate and bare.

  Except, now my portrait—me, not Camilla—is hanging on the wall across from the bed. The first thing he sees when he wakes up, and the only piece of art in the room.

  The only sound accompanying my heavy breathing is the faint trickle of water.

  Rolling my shoulders back and holding my head up high, I barge across the room and push open the bathroom door. Luke’s bathroom is large and exquisite—built for the prince he is. A familiar gray marble covers the floor, a beautiful contrast to the surprisingly white walls. Like the glass shower walls, the large mirror is fogged up due to the hot water running.

  I pass the double sink and approach the shower doors, barely managing to see Luke’s tall frame within.

  Still holding the confidence from the walk over, I reach out and run my hand over the wet glass, leaving a temporary streak to see through. Luke’s hands are propped against the wall, his head hanging as the hot spray hits him directly. His eyes are closed though I’m positive he knows he has an audience. Luke remains frozen until the water running down from his head is no longer tinged red from the muck covering him.

  My eyes are glued to the small window, not daring to look anywhere but at his upper body. After what seems like eternity, Luke’s head slowly turns to catch my eyes through the misty glass. His chest begins to expand and fall. His tongue reaches up to lick a drop of water off his lips.

  He waits for me to say what I’ve come here to say. I try to gather saliva to coat my cottonmouth, just enough so I can form two simple words. He’s patient with me, and, finally, I gather enough courage to say, “Get out.”

  One of his brows rises and he throws his head back. Runs his hands through his hair to push back the strands stuck to his forehead. The glass fogs again. Luke’s hand presses against it, wiping away the same path I did, meeting my eyes. Without breaking the contact, his other hand shuts off the running water.

  The glass door opens and we’re now face to face. I can see his breath in the thick air.

  He doesn’t make any movements to cover up and I hold his eyes. Fighting myself to keep rigid, my hand shakes when I grab the towel off of the rack and hand it to him.

  Luke smirks when taking the towel from me. He wraps it around his waist, not bothering to wipe off the rest of his body. “What are you still doing here?”

  I’m rudely reminded of why I decided to stay in the first place. “The next time you tell me to get out, I won’t come back.”

  His jaw clenches. “Is that right?”

  I clear my throat. “Don’t disrespect me.”

  “I would never,” he says roughly, insulted.

  “You don’t have to tell me everything but don’t push me away because I’ll go.” Luke licks the top row of his teeth in thought and I continue. “I don’t owe you a pass just because you’re having a hard time. We’re all having a hard time.”

  He reaches out, cups my cheek in one hand, rubs his thumb over my lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry, amour.”

  I lean into his caress, allowing my eyes to flutter closed at the French whisper, feeling drunk on it. His warm lips hit my temple and I can feel the heat radiating off of him. “Put some clothes on,” I tell him before it’s too late.

  Luke releases me with a wink, and I walk back into his bedroom with worse balance than our night at the roller rink. I close the door tightly behind me and walk across the vast floor to take a seat on the edge of Luke’s bed.

  Stay strong, I tell myself, never submit.

  I wish I had the courage to tell myself that years ago, having never considered myself to be strong.

  Within minutes, Luke emerges from the bathroom dressed in a pair of sweatpants much like the ones the soccer players wear and a simple t-shirt. He pads across the room barefoot, incredibly mundane, while his red-tinged eyes are not. He approaches me and moves to stand between my legs.

  He bends down to plant a soft, but firm, kiss on my lips; his way of reassuring me he’s taken my words to heart. When he leans away, he emits the softest sigh of pleasure and it flows right through me.

  I don’t know if it was the hot shower or my defying him and still being here, but he seems more relaxed. The strain lines in his forehead are smoothed out and his jaw is lax, the two most obvious signs of his agitation.

  “Can we leave?” he asks softly. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “Sure.”

  Luke reaches down and gathers me into his arms. He puts his face in my neck and I wrap my arms around his broad back, not realizing how much I needed the connection. Even though I know I shouldn’t. I spent seventeen years alone. I should be able to last a little longer.

  Though he’s notorious for dishing out pain, Luke only touches me tenderly, as if I’m fragile.

  I want to help him get out of this mess like I was able to get out of mine, but I don’t know how to. What do I have to offer someone like Luke? Someone who literally has an empire to run and is feared by everyone, whether they know of his existence or not?

  Lily’s words run through my head again.

  All I can do is wait until he figures out what I can offer to him. For now, I tighten my hold on him, pressing my nose into his chest and realize the spicy smell he always wore was probably a faint hint of Hell.

  Then, I’m on fire.

  My entire body clenches from the heat licking at me. No words can form, my jaw locked, denying me the ability to express the pain. If I were able to open my eyes, I’m sure I’d be able to see actual fire.

  It stops.

  Luke runs a reassuring hand down my back, whispering encouragement into my hair. “It’s done. It’s done.”

  I pant as the flames become faint needle pricks and fade together.

  I open my eyes and see we’re back in my bedroom.

  “I hate when you do that.”

  He gives a soft nod and steps out of my embrace, and then sits on my small bed which is just a step behind him. Leaning against my headboard, Luke’s body takes up most of the bed. If I were to fit next to him, I’d have to be on my side, draped over him.

  Luke pats the empty spot next to him.

  It feels like I have weights tied to my ankles as I take the few steps to the bed. I stare do
wn at the plain bedsheets, trying to figure out how I’m going to fit beside him. Luke huffs and rolls his eyes before grabbing me around my waist and pulling me down, not caring I land on top of him.

  I groan when my head hits his chin, reaching up to rub the sore spot while our legs dance to make room for each other. When I finally settle, I’m propped up against Luke’s chest with my head tucked under his chin. His arm is wrapped around my back, caressing my spine. The collar of my shirt pulls down between us, revealing the bruise that has yet to fade. I quickly yank up the collar, not wanting him to see my flawed body.

  Aunt Polly must not be home because the apartment is quiet, so silent I can simultaneously hear Luke’s heart beating and his breathing in harmony.

  I wait for him to speak.

  “My father isn’t coming.”

  My breath hitches at the mention of Luke’s father. The Devil.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  His caress hardens as he thinks. “It means this is something I’ll be handling alone. Which, is why I’ve been busy.”

  “Haven’t you done this before?”

  Luke snorts. “Have I dealt with angels before? Only once, and not in this capacity.”

  My nose wrinkles even though he can’t see it. “Then in what way?”

  His body tenses so fiercely, my own spine straightens. One vertebra at a time, it relaxes in time with his own relaxation. His caress continues, easing me. “Remember when I told you Camilla died?”

  I frown, hesitant. “Yes.”

  “When she died, it was an angel who came to take her soul to Heaven.”

  This time I do pull away, leaning back enough so I can see his face but not fall off the bed. “And that’s not normal?”

  Luke snorts. “Angels are the laziest creatures I’ve ever come across.”

  How can divinity be lazy? How can the beings who are prayed to every second of the day be indifferent? “What do you mean?”

  His face hardens, his lips pulling back at the thought of them. “When’s the last time you saw angels doing anything of importance, huh? When’s the last time they came down from the pearly gates to grace Earth—their people—with their presence? Never.”

  “I don’t think we expect them to actually come down, but just to listen to what we pray for.”